A Rancher's Justice (The Texas Riders Western #6) (A Western Frontier Fiction)
JOSEPH
POWELL
a rancher’s justice
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THE TEXAS RIDERS WESTERN
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A WESTERN FRONTIER FICTION
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Copyright Notice
Copyright © 2020 by Joseph Powell
All Rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic form or mechanical means without written permission from the author. The re-sale and distribution of this or any part therein of this work is a violation of U.S. and international copyright law.
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For more information about the author:
jpowellbooks@gmail.com
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Table of Contents
Copyright Notice
prologue
chapter 0 1 ✪
chapter 0 2 ✪
chapter 0 3 ✪
chapter 0 4 ✪
chapter 0 5 ✪
chapter 0 6 ✪
chapter 0 7 ✪
chapter 0 8 ✪
chapter 0 9 ✪
chapter 1 0 ✪
chapter 1 1 ✪
chapter 1 2 ✪
chapter 1 3 ✪
chapter 1 4 ✪
chapter 1 5 ✪
chapter 1 6 ✪
chapter 1 7 ✪
chapter 1 8 ✪
chapter 1 9 ✪
chapter 2 0 ✪
chapter 2 1 ✪
chapter 2 2 ✪
chapter 2 3 ✪
chapter 2 4 ✪
chapter 2 5 ✪
chapter 2 6 ✪
chapter 2 7 ✪
chapter 2 8 ✪
chapter 2 9 ✪
chapter 3 0 ✪
chapter 3 1 ✪
chapter 3 2 ✪
chapter 3 3 ✪
chapter 3 4 ✪
chapter 3 5 ✪
chapter 3 6 ✪
chapter 3 7 ✪
chapter 3 8 ✪
chapter 3 9 ✪
chapter 4 0 ✪
chapter 4 1 ✪
chapter 4 2 ✪
chapter 4 3 ✪
chapter 4 4 ✪
chapter 4 5 ✪
epilogue
A Note from the Author
Order of Books . Book Catalog
Copyright Notice and Publisher Notes
prologue
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Whiteridge, Texas 1871
Noah Drake heard a woman’s scream come from down the hall and hurried forward. He paused outside the door, listening to see what he could hear before barging right in. The last thing he wanted was to get Mary shot, if that was her. He was pretty sure it was, and it ripped his heart out to hear her so scared.
That Mary’s own brother, Ulysses Hill, had put her in this position with his hunger for money and power was beyond his comprehension. Noah wished, not for the first time, that he’d killed the evil ranch owner when he’d had a chance.
Ulysses has been wreaking havoc on this town for years. It was about time he and his men got what was coming to them. Today, after years of turmoil, justice would be served.
A second scream was followed by the muffled sounds of a man’s voice.
Ernest Welles came hurrying down the hall.
“Is it Hannah or Mary in there?” he asked in a whisper, holding up his Remington.
Noah followed his friend’s lead and got his Colt Navy ready to fire.
“Mary, I think.” He had known Mary for years now, and he’d loved her almost as long. If not for Ulysses, he was certain they’d have been together long ago. Instead, they’d spent the last year meeting in secret. Well, he was done with all of that.
“On three,” Ernest said.
Noah nodded and held up one finger, then two, then three. They burst into the room and found Hannah, not Mary, struggling on the bed against Silas Ford.
Silas looked surprised to see them. His pants were around his ankles and his gun was sitting on a side table.
Hannah was only sixteen years old and half naked. Her clothes were torn, and her face was stained with tears. Blood dripped out of her nose and down her chin.
“Where’d you two come from?” Silas demanded, angry for the interruption. Clearly, he hadn’t finished with the poor girl yet.
A second man stepped out from the shadows at the back of the room. It was Jake Ford, Silas’ brother. Noah felt sick to his stomach. Apparently, both men wanted their way with the girl. They were planning to share her.
That thought was quickly followed by a new, even more horrific one. If Hannah was here, where was Mary? Had they already killed her?
Please God, let Mary be okay.
Jake held his gun up, an old Colt Paterson he never seemed to want to part with, and pointed it right at Ernest.
Hannah took advantage of the distraction Ernest and Noah’s presence had caused and jabbed Silas in the face with her elbow. The man let out a surprised grunt as she pushed him away and rolled off the bed.
Silas jumped up after her, trying to pull up his pants and grab his gun off the side table at the same time. He managed to get the gun in his hand and point it at Ernest, but he was still fumbling with his pants. That was his mistake.
Noah pulled the trigger on his Colt and sent a bullet flying right into Silas’ gut. He doubled over at the waist, crying out in pain.
Jake’s eyes widened as he watched his brother drop to his knees. “No!” he shouted, turning angry eyes on Noah.
Noah fired a second shot right into Silas’ head. The man tipped over, blood spilling out of him, and landed dead on the ground.
“I’m gonna get you for that,” said Jake. “If it’s the last thing I do.”
Hannah was lying flat on the floor. “Mary’s in the room at the end of the hall.”
Ernest was closest to the door. As much as Noah wanted to save Mary, it was up to Ernest now. “Go, I’ve got you covered.”
Ernest gave a nod then ran out of the room. Jake fired at Ernest as he went, but he wasn’t fast enough. He quickly turned his attention back to Noah, shooting two bullets in a row at him. Noah ducked and hid behind the bed.
The room was small. He had to get Hannah out of here, but that was impossible with Jake firing on them. “Stay down,” he told her and fired a round at Jake. He scraped Jake’s arm, but not much else.
Jake was mad. More than mad, really. He looked like a rabid dog.
Down the hall, Noah heard more shots and wondered what was going on. He hoped Mary and Ernest were all right, but there was no time to worry about it just now. Jake was coming for him.
Jake jumped on the bed, gun in his hand. There was nowhere for Noah to go. He did the only thing he could think of and grabbed a hold of Silas’ dead body, pulling the heavy man on top of him like a shield.
Jake’s eyes widened and his face turned pale. Even though his brother was dead, Jake couldn’t shoot through him just to try and get Noah.
Noah took the opportunity to shoot Jake instead. He got him right in the leg. Jake fell off the bed, not dead but not doing real good either.
Noah pushed Silas off him and stood up.
Hannah started to stand, too. “Is he dead?”
Jake moved fast, aiming his pistol at her.
“Hannah, get down!” Noah shouted and covered the girl with his body. They dropped to the floor together, and two more shots flew over their heads. One of them came close, too c
lose. It scraped the back of Noah’s skull, or at least it fell that way.
The world around him grew dark, and his eyes shut. When he opened them again, Ernest was standing over him, looking worried.
“You’re all right. I wasn’t sure for a minute. Looks like a bullet nearly took off your head. You’re bleeding, but everything’s still attached.”
“Where’s Mary?” Noah said, afraid to ask.
“She’s all right. Come on, I’ll take you to her.”
Hannah was unconscious on the floor beside him, but there were no bullet wounds in her. She had probably passed out from the shock of all that had happened, poor girl. Noah picked her up and carried her down the stairs.
Mary was just waking up from her own unconsciousness. She smiled when she saw Noah. “You came for me.”
“Of course, I did,” Noah said. God, he loved that girl. When this was all over and they were back home, he was gonna do right by her and ask for her hand.
Her beautiful face stared up at him. “I think I love you all the more now.”
Noah wiped the blood from her cheek and gave her a kiss. He looked around at the dead bodies of Ulysses’ men and realized Jake wasn’t among them.
“What happened to Jake?” Noah asked Ernest.
Ernest sighed. “He got away. But he was hurt pretty good. If he doesn’t die soon, he’ll dig himself a deep hole to hide in. Don’t you worry, we’ll never hear from him again.”
Noah hoped Ernest was right.
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chapter 0 1 ✪
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New Mexico Territory, 1871,
Months Later
Jake Ford looked around Mae’s Diner where he was seated with his three partners and leaned in a little closer to them. He didn’t need anyone overhearing his idea about robbing the Buford Bank, not that anyone here would have dared to question him about it.
Especially not with the six-shooter he had strapped to his belt. That 1842 Colt Paterson had a way of keeping people at a distance.
Mae came over to their table before Jake could get to his big idea and asked if they needed anything else.
Sid looked at her and gave her a mischievous smile. “I’d take a kiss.”
Mae slapped him playfully on the back of his head.
“Sid Halo, you know better than to talk to me like that when my husband’s in the kitchen. If he hears you, he’ll take that butcher knife of his and—” She made a slicing motion with one of her fingers across her neck, but she was smiling when she did it.
Sid leaned back in his seat and swept a hand through his dark hair. He always had his eye to the ladies. It wasn’t a bad thing, but it also wasn’t the right time for it.
“We’ll just take the check, Mae,” Jake said, and she disappeared into the back.
Sid looked at him. “You trying to ruin my fun? Mae doesn’t mind a little flirting.”
“This is a family place. Anyway, we got somewhere we need to be real soon. Unless you’re not interested in earning a couple thousand dollars. Each.”
Now he had their attention. Sid, Hank, and Ralph all leaned in toward him, excited at the mention of the money.
“What have you got in mind?” Ralph asked.
Jake took another look around the small diner and lowered his voice. He didn’t think anyone was sitting close enough to hear them, not with so much chatter going on in the place, but he didn’t want to take chances.
“Today’s the first Friday in October, and I’ve got it on good authority that Buford Bank always gets an extra load of money on the first Friday of every month.”
“Is that true?” Hank asked.
Jake nodded. “There’s a special stagecoach that makes a trip once a month to keep those fancy business folks happy. Stops at a way station about halfway here and then finishes up at the bank between nine a.m. and noon.”
Sid swallowed the rest of his coffee. “Wouldn’t it be better to rob the way station? Less people and all. They wouldn’t be expecting it.”
It was a good idea, and if Jake had gotten this information earlier, they’d have done just that. But right now there wasn’t time to rob the way station, unless they wanted to wait another month. And Jake had no intention of waiting.
“They’re past the station already. Nearly here, if my information’s correct,” Jake said.
Mae came back to their table then and laid the check down. Jake grabbed it and looked the bill over then handed her five dollars and told her to keep the change.
She grinned at him. “You come back again soon.”
He and the rest of his gang slid out from their table and headed outside to the hitching post where they’d tied their horses off. Sid’s Winchester Carbine was still hanging off the saddle. A good thing, too; they were gonna need it.
Ralph and Hank both had a Springfield Allen Conversion rifle that they loved and a couple of pistols in their saddlebags.
“I’m out of cartridges,” Hank said, going through his stuff. There was a gun shop just across the road from them.
Jake thought he might as well pick up a couple of boxes of .36s while they were here, so he followed Hank into the store.
The man behind the counter winced when he saw them. “I don’t want no trouble.”
Jake saw four wanted pictures stuck to the wall behind the man, one for him and each member of his gang.
“We don’t want no trouble either. Just give me a couple boxes of .36s, and my friend here needs some .50 caliber cartridges for his shotgun.”
The man produced the bullets fast and Jake paid him. He and Hank went back outside and told the others they’d been made.
Sid didn’t look real concerned about it. “Think he’s gonna turn us in?”
Jake didn’t think the man would do anything of the sort. Jake had paid him for the bullets, and they’d left peaceably. Most men didn’t want to get involved with outlaws; they’d rather pretend they didn’t see anything. Like Mae.
That woman knew damn well they were wanted men, but she hadn’t said one word about it to anyone all week. And why would she when Jake was tipping her so well?
“Come on, it’s almost nine now. We can get to Buford by eight-thirty if we hurry and wait outside till the coach comes,” Jake said.
From what he’d heard, they’d know the coach when they saw it. There’d be a couple of armed guards riding with it, maybe as many as four or five, and everyone would look real nervous. The side of the coach would have Shep’s Wagon painted on it.
The woman who’d told Jake all this was Penelope Grant, a pretty blonde with a shapely figure he’d met in a saloon one night earlier this week.
She worked at the bank and the more she drank, the more she talked. Jake knew the bank manager’s name was Craig Edgars and that he was real uptight about stuff, particularly making sure the first Friday money transfer went down without a hitch.
Penelope didn’t like Craig much, or his right-hand man, Ted Baker. According to her, both men thought they were better than everyone else.
Jake had spent the rest of the night alone in his room with Penelope, assuring her that she was better than either her bank manager or his assistant, and she’d left his room feeling a whole lot better about herself the next morning.
And, of course, Jake had gotten his big idea. In one afternoon they’d make five times as much as all those little bank jobs they’d spent the last couple months pulling off.
They arrived in Buford a little before nine and found a little diner across the street from the bank with some tables and chairs set up outside. They took a table and ordered coffee. All they had to do now was wait and watch.
Hank was worried about the sun. He went on and on about how it would be better to rob the place tonight after the bank was closed.
Jake shook his head. “If we wait till tonight, we’d have to break into the bank. This way, we just take the money off the coach. We don’t have to break into anything. We don’t even have to go inside.”
Hank li
ked that idea pretty well once Jake put it to him like that.
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There wasn’t a whole lot in Buford except dust and a few dirt roads that led in and back out again. The buildings were small but in good condition. None of them were falling down. And the land around here had rich soil.
About an hour later, Shep’s Wagon came rolling to a slow stop right in front of the bank. Three guards hopped off the wagon and looked around.
“This is it, boys. Let’s go,” Jake said and threw a couple dollars down on their table as he pushed his seat back.
Customers were going in and out of the bank: a couple of women with bonnets on their heads, a child holding his mother’s hand, a handful of men in business suits. A man dressed in finery stepped out of the bank and walked directly to the coach, shaking the hand of one of the guards.
Jake knew right away he was the bank manager, Craig Edgars. The man who came out of the bank with him and was attached to his hip was almost certainly Ted Baker.
Jake got his Colt Paterson ready then changed his mind and grabbed the LeMat revolver he had on his belt. It’d fire more shots before having to reload and it made a lot more noise, too. If he was lucky, he’d scare everyone away and no one would try to stop them.
Sid grabbed his Winchester, and Hank and Ralph both took up their Springfields. All of them had an extra pistol strapped to their gun belts and extra bullets at the ready.
They didn’t try to hide their guns or what they were about to do. They just walked calmly toward the coach.
One guard was still busy talking to the bank manager, and the other two were getting ready to unload the stuff. The driver was just sitting there smoking some tobacco and taking a break.
Jake fired his LeMat into the back of the first guard’s head, sending a .42 caliber bullet through his brain and leaving a hole the size of Texas itself. The man crumpled to the ground without ever knowing what had happened to him. The driver, who was no dope, took off running.
The bank manager’s face was splattered with the guard’s blood. He looked shocked and then horrified. He turned and ran right into his right-hand man, who was frozen stiff with fear. They weren’t much of a concern, so Jake ignored them for the moment.